


january 19

by and_hera



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Happy Birthday Neil, Idiots in Love, Introspection, M/M, they're in love nora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: Andrew’s hand fits exceedingly well into his own, Neil thinks. The weight of it is like the keys, the ones he would trace into his palm over and over, the ones that became his home. But he thinks he likes this a little more.or, Neil can have a good birthday this year. As a treat.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, background Renee Walker/Allison Reynolds
Comments: 19
Kudos: 191





	january 19

**Author's Note:**

> neil josten i love you baby i know you're spending your day with andrew and being happy i'm so proud of u  
> i hope u enjoy the fic!! this one goes out to the dumbass daysey elitists, who tolerated me spamming the gc with my writing nonsense today and played uno with me  
> if you enjoy, pls leave kudos and comments!! i treasure every comment forever so pls 
> 
> tw: mentions of neil's backstory, mentions of the Baltimore Incident

□

On January 19th, Neil’s scars always seem to itch a little more.

There’s no rhyme or reason for it, no specific cause, really, but every year, without fail, he doesn’t look in a mirror, keeps his eyes from his hands, covers his carefully cut hair with a hat, wears long-sleeved shirts. Every year, without fail, he follows a carefully crafted schedule, one he knows by heart, and does not think about his father, doesn’t think about his freshman year.

On January 19th, Neil Josten goes for a run.

He does not think about today.

It’s just another day, he tells himself, because Neil Josten doesn’t have any reason to celebrate until March 31st. On March 31st, Neil Josten turns twenty-five years old.

But today, twenty-five years ago, Nathaniel Wesninski was brought into the world from a terrified mother and calculating father. Today, twenty-five years ago, Mary Stuart and Nathan Wesninski were given a healthy boy who would grow up to be the spitting image of his father, who would grow up to defy his mother, who would grow up to, against all odds, survive.

When he returns to the apartment, Andrew is awake.

_Andrew_.

“Hey,” he says, taking off his gloves. He leaves the hat on. “Did I wake you up?”

Andrew shakes his head. He’s standing in their tiny kitchen, a mug in his hands, and if Neil didn’t know better, he would assume that a man who looks like Andrew would drink black coffee every morning.

“We’re not going to practice today,” Andrew says.

Neil meets his gaze. Andrew keeps eye contact as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate and wipes away the melted marshmallow left on his upper lip.

“You called coach?” Neil asks.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you will play recklessly today and will probably strain something. Because you need more rest to continue functioning and I refuse to let you stay up late practicing like you did last year. Because I have something planned. Take your pick.”

“No gifts.”

“No.”

Neil walks around the counter and takes the mug from his hands. “No parties, either,” he says cautiously, and Andrew shakes his head.

Neil kisses him. He tastes like hot chocolate and while Neil doesn’t particularly care for sweets, he doesn’t quite mind it this time.

“What do you have planned,” he asks quietly when he pulls away, and Andrew looks at him, looks at him, looks at him. Neil thinks that Andrew’s plans could be this, standing in the kitchen of their apartment and looking at each other and hot chocolate and kisses, and he would be perfectly content with it.

“You’ll see,” Andrew says, and he takes the mug back from Neil’s hands. He pulls Neil’s hat off and runs his fingers through his hair. “Don’t spend today hiding,” he murmurs, and he walks away.

□

When Andrew and Neil decided to look for an apartment, when Andrew and Neil made it to the same team after the year of rivalries, they decided it had to be on the top floor. And there had to be an accessible roof. Of course, that didn’t mean they were _allowed_ to get up there, but both of them know how to pick a lock and if all else fails, exy racquets are known for an overwhelming amount of blunt force when wielded correctly.

So, even in winter, they often find themselves up on top of the building, feet dangling off the edge, Andrew’s hand finding Neil’s or vice versa. Cigarette smoke and car horns below, late night kisses and snowflakes landing on noses. More importantly, peace.

Andrew’s hand fits exceedingly well into his own, Neil thinks. The weight of it is like the keys, the ones he would trace into his palm over and over, the ones that became his home. But he thinks he likes this a little more.

“Are these your plans?” Neil asks, his voice carried by the wind. It’s starting to snow. “The ones that got us out of practice?”

“Perhaps,” Andrew says, and Neil huffs a laugh. “But maybe not. Is this how you want to spend your special day, birthday boy?”

“I would do anything with you,” Neil replies, and Andrew scoffs, “and it’s not my birthday. Not for seventy-two days.”

“A very specific number. I wonder why you learned it.”

“I was bored, I suppose.”

“And what a specific date to measure from, January 19th. Why today, Neil?”

Neil doesn’t reply. He takes Andrew’s cigarette and breathes in the smoke.

He doesn’t need the reminder of his mother as much anymore, and Andrew doesn’t smoke as much anymore, and if you look at it the right way it might seem as though they are healing. Maybe. Just like how Neil’s skypes to Matt once a week and Andrew’s calls to Bee when he’s having a bad day might show progress.

Andrew had said he was self-destructive, but Neil doesn’t think he is anymore. Just tired.

Neil’s tired, too. But when Andrew holds his hand and the world is small below them, he’s okay.

“Do we have to go anywhere for these plans?” Neil asks.

“Yes,” Andrew says, “but not for a while.”

“And what should we do to kill the time between?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Andrew,” Neil says, “it is twenty-eight degrees outside and we are on a _roof_ —”

Andrew kisses him into silence. Neil forgets what he was saying, and he’s not entirely upset about it.

□

Nathaniel Wesninski died at the age of nineteen.

But sometimes, Neil thinks he comes back, just to haunt him.

When he looks in a mirror, when he’s handed a knife to chop vegetables, when he thinks he sees one of his father’s lackeys in a club. Allison cuts his hair to avoid the mirrors of a hairdresser’s and he covers the scars running up and down his arms with long sleeves until it’s simply too hot to do so, and then some.

Nathaniel Wesninski died at the hands of his father when he was nineteen, and he isn’t supposed to come back. Neil is supposed to life his new life, his second chance, the one he was given despite being taught that _nothing_ is ever given and _everything_ has to be taken. Neil is supposed to be content, supposed to be happy. He has nothing left to fear anymore, his mother bones on a beach in California and his father dust in an unmarked grave in Baltimore.

And yet, and yet, Nathaniel persists, Nathaniel follows him, over his shoulder at best and in his face at worst. Reminding him that his past is never truly gone.

And yet, Andrew stays.

Andrew, a man with his own tragic past, a man with his own sad story, stays, helps him on his worst days. And in turn, Neil does the same for Andrew.

Their own little agreement, their own little transaction. And yet, it doesn’t seem like any deal Andrew has made in the past.

Because it’s a choice, Neil thinks. It’s not made out of fear or need. It’s made from another four-letter word that Neil doesn’t dare to even think, let alone say.

And really, Neil doesn’t know if he’ll ever say it. But he hopes he will.

“Neil,” Andrew says, and he blinks. He slides into the passenger seat. “Must you always get trapped in your own head,” Andrew says, more of a statement than a question. Neil shrugs.

They drive.

□

“I thought you said no party,” Neil says, and Andrew rolls his eyes.

“It’s just dinner,” he replies. Neil rolls his eyes.

It’s a little restaurant by their apartment, a nicer one, but small enough that it’s good. They’ve been there once or twice before, like when Kevin wanted to introduce Jean and Jeremy to them “officially,” like Neil hadn’t seen Jean for two-more-like-three weeks in Evermore and like Andrew hadn’t known Jeremy for years from Kevin’s rambling. It’s quiet. It’s good.

When they walk in, it is decidedly _not_ quiet.

Because, _oh_ — everyone’s here. Everyone’s here and everyone’s happy. Matt and Nicky and Dan and Renee and all of them.

Neil didn’t want their help until he needed it, didn’t know how much he relied on them until he was alone his senior year. Didn’t know that he missed them until he did.

Andrew’s plans, he realizes.

Matt sees them first, whipping his head around and whooping with delight, and the rest of the Foxes follow him and swarm him, hugs and warmth and smiles. Andrew will be to the side, Neil knows, still not a fan of touch, but he’s right there, and he willingly invited the people he claimed to only tolerate for five years.

No one mentions his birthday. No one brings up _why_ Andrew brought them together.

“I thought his phone must have been hacked when I saw him calling me,” Dan says, and everyone laughs and Neil smiles, because Andrew calling Dan seems near impossible. Renee is plausible, and then that would mean Allison by default considering that they’re getting married next fall, and maybe Nicky during one of their biweekly Skype calls and Aaron via the shortest possible text message and Kevin just to make him angry about their missing practice. But Andrew willingly talking to Matt or Dan? Laughable.

Clearly not, though.

Neil has missed them.

Andrew is to his right and Allison to his left and she’s holding his hand above the table and he’s holding his hand below the table and Neil is content. Neil has missed them.

Allison ruffles his hair. “You think you’ll need a new haircut soon?” she asks, and Neil shrugs. She nods sagely. “That’s a yes, then. You’ll never ask willingly, Neil ‘I’m fine’ Josten.”

Andrew squeezes his hand. He stops thinking about his hair.

They talk and they talk and they talk and Neil is, for once, happy. He’s had average birthdays with exy and a lack of Andrew and he’s had bad birthdays with gifts of weapons from his father and worse birthdays with blood all over his jersey and forgotten birthdays with his mother. But today— today he thinks is a good one. A good day.

Neil skypes them and he calls them and their group text is still regularly active but he has missed them.

He is happy.

□

They don’t go home until it’s close to midnight. Neil is considering skipping his morning run tomorrow, because he isn’t sure if he and Andrew will be sleeping tonight.

When they close the door, Andrew walks to the fridge, grabs a small box from inside, and tosses it to Neil. Instinctively, he catches it.

“I thought you said no presents,” Neil says, because he likes to be a little shit.

“Don’t be a little shit,” Andrew says. “Open it.”

Neil does. There’s a ring inside. A gold ring, and when he looks closer, there is a small key engraved on the inside of it.

Oh, he thinks.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Andrew says. “It is just a ring.”

“And they were just keys,” Neil replies. He can’t stop staring at it.

He looks at it and looks at it and looks at it. In the corner of his eye, he can see Andrew, stoic as always. His hands are shaking, though. Just a little bit.

“Yes or no,” Andrew says.

“It’s always a yes with you,” Neil replies, truthfully, sincerely. Because it is. Because Neil didn’t think he wanted this with anyone, didn’t think he _could_ want this with anyone, until Andrew.

Until Andrew.

□

(when they tell the rest of the foxes, there is laughter and love. allison says they could have at _least_ waited until she and renee were married, and thanks for taking their spotlight, and andrew tells her to fuck off, and they all laugh. and while no one sees it but him, neil notices andrew smiling, a little.

it’s a soft, small thing.

neil thinks he loves it.)

□


End file.
